


A Closed Mouth Gathers No Feet (Open Wide)

by ZombieCheeze



Category: iKON (Korea Band)
Genre: Foot Fetish, Foot Jobs, High Heels, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Shoe Kink, Smoking, Stockings, toe sucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 23:45:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11542920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZombieCheeze/pseuds/ZombieCheeze
Summary: None of them know how to wear heels like Jinhwan, or appreciate them like Chanwoo.





	A Closed Mouth Gathers No Feet (Open Wide)

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaah this was so much fun you guys! I wanted to try writing a kink I don't identify with, and this was a great exercise and super refreshing. Took me ages for all the research I had to do (cough watching lots of porn cough) but I ended up being really pleased with the result; hopefully you are too!
> 
> This was written thanks to a certain party who will remain unnamed for now, but you know who you are. :P
> 
> Also, credit where credit is due: _"You really do like this, don’t you, you adorable little freak?”_ is a line from the comic _Sunstone_ by Stjepan Sejic. It was too perfect not to borrow.

 

The empty shoebox, made of pale pink cardboard and still trailing the remnants of translucent packing paper, lies open on the floor in front of Chanwoo’s knees.  It seems to draw his eye like an opened coffin, and a rush of nerves make him wrap his arms around himself, hugging his chest to stop himself from trembling.

 

He’s almost a little scared of what’s about to happen, even though they’ve talked through it a dozen times.  His eyes flick warily toward the bathroom every few seconds, and he hugs himself a little tighter.  He’s excited, but he’s nervous too, insecure, _embarrassed_.

 

But Jinhwan’s doing this for him, and they both know it.

 

He doesn't make Chanwoo wait long.  Not a minute later, he catches the sound of the delicate, hollow cadence of high heels on hard floor, as threatening as the ticking of a clock.  Just the sound alone has his heart skipping in his chest, his blood warming to the rhythm, already half-hard and getting harder.  His imagination races ahead to those slick white heels, glossy vinyl shining in the low light of the side lamp.

 

Then Jinhwan himself appears at the door, his silhouette dark against the backlighting of the bathroom.  He switches off the light behind him, and Chanwoo gets to appreciate _everything_.

 

Jinhwan’s not a particularly big guy—that fact has been so thoroughly canvassed that it’s not even a good joke anymore—but Chanwoo feels about thirteen centimeters tall looking up at him from his kneeling stance.

 

And as he approaches Chanwoo from across the room, more and more details loom out of the darkness; those ridiculously high, shiny white high heels on Jinhwan’s feet, Jinhwan’s slender legs sheathed in ivory nylon stockings, thick thighs belted with a wide filigree of lace.  There’s no garter belt, but he doesn’t need them.  Above that, his white hot pants and bare chest are the perfect accompaniment, simple enough to accent the shoes without distracting from their focus.

 

Chanwoo makes a mental note to ask him how he manages to walk so smoothly in them, but not now.

 

The shoes are stark white, glossy vinyl shining in the dimness, as sky-high a pair as they could find when they’d shopped for them together some weeks earlier on Chanwoo’s laptop, cuddled protectively around the screen and trying not to jump and giggle nervously when Bobby came in.  There had been many questions and indecision from the both of them—should they get straps? Buckles? Leather or vinyl?—but then Chanwoo had found this simple pair on the very next page, and the decision had been suddenly very easy.

 

Jinhwan settles himself loftily in the chair in front of Chanwoo, kicking the box out of the way, and only there in the low light can Chanwoo see the little tremor in his hands and the flush high on his cheeks.  Suddenly, he feels a lot _less_ nervous, knowing Jinhwan’s just as keyed up, just as embarrassed and pleased.

 

And _God_ , those _shoes_.  They’re so hot, so fucking sexy on Jinhwan’s slender feet, Chanwoo wonders if he’s just taken a blow to the head, or if it’s the resultant southing rush of blood that’s stripped him of his senses.

 

“Is this what you wanted?” Jinhwan hums, and in spite of his trembling hands, his voice is low, smooth, his smile indulgent.

 

Chanwoo nods, too embarrassed now to look up at him, thoroughly intimidated by the intensity of Jinhwan’s gaze.  Jinhwan leans forward, catching Chanwoo’s chin in one hand in a gentle, proprietary hold.

 

“Good.” He says, leaning back comfortably.  He draws one leg up to dig the heel of his white shoe against Chanwoo’s shoulder, at the same time reaching for the pack of cigarettes on the little table beside his chair.  

 

He puts one between his lips and waits while Chanwoo rummages in his pocket for the lighter, a task made no easier by the fact that he’s already raging hard, his jeans uncomfortably tight.  He cups his hand dutifully around the little flame, leaning in to light the end of Jinhwan’s cigarette.  The pleasant, spicy scent of tobacco fills the space at once, the red end glowing brightly as Jinhwan takes a deep drag.

 

Chanwoo doesn’t smoke, but his lips part automatically when Jinhwan leans down, the shoe dislodging from Chanwoo’s shoulder to wrap a leg around his neck now.  Jinhwan’s lips purse as if he’s going to kiss him; however, he only grips Chanwoo’s jaw firmly in one small hand and exhales a long stream of white smoke into his open mouth.  

 

Chanwoo’s breath comes in on a gasp and then he chokes on the acrid sting in his throat, collapsing against Jinhwan’s legs in a coughing fit, his eyes streaming.  Jinhwan laughs softly, taking another drag.

 

After a moment, Chanwoo recovers, his eyes bright and cheeks flushed.  He wipes his wet eyes stubbornly on the back of his hand, looking up at Jinhwan and watching smoke curl out around his smiling mouth, eyes tracking the sweep of his tongue across his lower lip.  Jinhwan’s leg is still slung over his shoulder, the inside of his thigh warm against Chanwoo’s cheek.

 

Above all, Chanwoo thinks he might burst with arousal, his body so hot there’s already a sweat breaking out on his forehead.  He smothers another little cough into a hand, and then Jinhwan says, “Well?”

 

Chanwoo knows what he means, and part of him wants to resist, wants to draw this out as long as possible—but he knows he won’t be allowed to enjoy Jinhwan’s shoes or feet until he’s made Jinhwan absolutely sure of how much he appreciates what Jinhwan’s doing for him, until Jinhwan is convinced he _worships_ him.

 

Normally (though the joke is lost on him at this point in time) that would _start_ with Jinhwan’s feet, but now it seems to be going in reverse, because Chanwoo lifts Jinhwan’s other leg onto his shoulder so that Jinhwan slides down in the chair, with his thighs wrapped around Chanwoo’s neck.  The heels of the shoes dig sharply into either side of his spine, spurring him to greater arousal.  Jinhwan smiles again, exhaling a long plume of smoke before stubbing out the butt of his cigarette in the ashtray, rubbing it back and forth along the bottom like he’s stirring a cup of coffee.

 

“Go ahead.” Jinhwan says, low and soft.  Chanwoo’s hands obediently slide up the outsides of Jinhwan’s thighs—smooth, warm nylon becoming silky, hot lace becoming softer, hotter skin.  He lowers his head to mouth at the shape of Jinhwan’s cock through the pale fabric of his shorts, where a little circle of precum is already staining the thin fabric.  

 

When he lifts his head again, there’s a bigger wet spot from Chanwoo’s tongue, and Jinhwan is no longer looking so cool and composed.  No, he’s watching Chanwoo with hot eyes that glitter in the low light, his soft lower lip caught between white teeth.

 

Chanwoo takes his time curling his fingers underneath the elastic of the white hot shorts; Jinhwan raises his hips to make the process easier, but Chanwoo only tugs them down enough to free his cock.  The head of it catches on the elastic before popping free and slapping back against his hip.  Jinhwan’s _hard_ , harder than Chanwoo expected, and maybe—perhaps just a tiny, tiny bit—Jinhwan’s into this, too.

 

The sharp, impatient dig of a heel into Chanwoo’s back spurs him into action, and he wastes no more time.  Without looking away from Jinhwan’s face, Chanwoo lowers his head again to take Jinhwan into his mouth, hands sliding beneath Jinhwan’s lower back to support him.

 

It doesn’t take long before Jinhwan’s trembling beneath him, squirming with the sweet tension of orgasm beginning to tighten in his belly.  The muscles in his abdomen tense rhythmically, and still Chanwoo’s watching him just as intensely, his ears perked for Jinhwan’s soft noises of pleasure.  The careless way he digs his heels sharply into Chanwoo’s back is like the touch of a whip, driving Chanwoo harder, so that he chokes on Jinhwan’s cock when his hips buck involuntarily into his mouth.  

 

By now Chanwoo’s making his own little unconscious sounds too, whines and whimpers of effort, his neck and jaw beginning to ache from the constant motion.  Jinhwan lets out a long moan, his hands snarling in Chanwoo’s hair, his thighs closing tightly around Chanwoo’s head a second before his hips buck up, orgasm catching him low in the belly.

 

He comes in a series of earthshattering pulses, his throttled, staccato moans like a reward all on their own, and Chanwoo tries hard not to gag as cum fills his mouth.

 

“Don’t fucking swallow it.” Jinhwan pants, his voice feeble and breathless but still authoritative.  Chanwoo doesn’t, even though he’d rather get it out of his mouth; the taste isn’t pleasant, but he knows Jinhwan’s response will be.

 

Jinhwan sits up after a moment, his legs falling off Chanwoo’s shoulders to either side of him, trembling with weakness and still a little winded but seemingly back in control.  He leans forward in the chair, the legs creaking slightly.  Chanwoo tips his head back to look up at him, and Jinhwan takes his chin in one hand again, smiling.

 

“Show me.”

 

Chanwoo parts his swollen, slick lips to the rub of Jinhwan’s thumb over his chin, pushing it inside his mouth to press on his tongue and then smearing a streak of cum and spit across his cheek.  His hand smoothes down Chanwoo’s chin, and then lower, his thumb and pinky spanning Chanwoo’s throat.

 

“Swallow.” Jinhwan commands, and Chanwoo does, throat bobbing under Jinhwan’s grip.

 

Satisfied, Jinhwan sits up straight again, scooting back on the chair to raise one slender leg and brace his shoe lightly against Chanwoo’s chest.

 

The heat that flashes through Chanwoo’s body is as vivid and obvious as a bolt of lightning, and he quivers with excitement, waiting to be given the signal.  But Jinhwan only smiles indulgently down at him, and Chanwoo feels his eyes watering with the intensity of his gaze, but he stares back nonetheless.

 

“They make my feet hurt.” Jinhwan says, and though it might’ve been a complaint, his voice is too low, too smooth to be a true complaint, his expression amused and almost derisive.

 

“Should I take them off for you, hyung?” Chanwoo says at once, betraying his own eagerness.  Jinhwan smiles wider.

 

“Do you think you deserve it?”

 

Chanwoo nods without hesitation, one hand already on Jinhwan’s ankle, the other resting across the top of his foot.  His grip is warm through the nylon.

 

“What’s your reasoning?”

 

Chanwoo raises an eyebrow as if measuring Jinhwan’s sincerity, and then he opens his mouth, letting his tongue hang out briefly, amusement shining in his eyes.  

 

Jinhwan can’t help it; he laughs, and for one second he almost loses his hold on the situation, almost collapses into hysteria; and after one shaky moment, he manages to suppress the giggles threatening to overwhelm him.

 

“May I?  Hyung?” Chanwoo ventures when Jinhwan doesn’t say anything.

 

“You may.” Jinhwan hums.

 

Not wanting to waste this opportunity, Chanwoo doesn’t hurry; even though he’d love nothing better than to rip those shoes off Jinhwan’s feet and shove his cock between the soles, he doesn’t.  Carefully, slowly, he pulls at the heel, sliding first one, then the other down off Jinhwan’s feet like Prince Goddamn Charming, except that he feels less charming and more indecent than he ever has in his life.

 

He sets the shoes neatly off to the side, trying to savor the experience, to hold himself back, and then he inhales sharply as Jinhwan hooks him around the jaw with one stocking foot, turning him back until he’s looking up at him in the chair.

 

“You bothered me for weeks for this, so you’d better prove to me that it was worth it.” Jinhwan says smoothly.  Chanwoo almost moans when Jinhwan’s elegant, stocking-clad foot traces his cheek instead, curled toes gripping lightly at his chin.  He’s wearing scent on his ankles, too, something sweet that leaves Chanwoo’s insides molten.  His body’s so far ahead of his brain that he can’t even think of a response, distracted as he is.

 

But he’s not here to think.  This isn’t logic’s territory.

 

Chanwoo’s lips part when Jinhwan presses the ball of his foot against Chanwoo’s chin, tilting his head back, toes curled along his lower lip.  The surprised breath Chanwoo draws into his lungs is spiked with the sharp, pleasurable scent of vinyl and the cologne Jinhwan had applied earlier.  It’s fucking _intoxicating_ , to the point that his embarrassment is no longer anywhere to be seen, eclipsed by something more insistent than itself.

 

He looks narrowly up at Jinhwan, seeing him smiling back at him.  Then he cups Jinhwan’s foot to his cheek, turning his face inward to mouth at the arch, his lips and hands warm through the ivory stockings.

 

Jinhwan can barely keep from gasping, and then moaning as Chanwoo’s tongue dampens the nylon, breath hot against the ball of his foot, lips closing around the toe and his teeth tugging delicately at the ends of the stockings.  He’s already hard again, though he couldn’t have said why.  Maybe it’s the act itself, or maybe it’s that Chanwoo just looks so fucking _good_ , right where he fucking belongs with his hot mouth worshiping Jinhwan’s feet like the sleazy little creep he is.

 

“How many can you take?” Jinhwan whispers, and Chanwoo throws him another of those narrow looks, as if suspecting Jinhwan of sarcasm.  But Chanwoo isn’t running this show, and ultimately he doesn’t get to make decisions.  “Open wide.” Jinhwan singsongs, flexing his foot to point his toes.  A renewed rush of arousal flash-floods the pit of his stomach as Chanwoo does as he’s told, his mouth moving with deliberate slowness around each toe.

 

A few nights before, Jinhwan had allowed him to paint his toenails in pretty, sheer, sparkly pink.  The others had given him shit for it when they’d seen, but Jinhwan’s too aloof to be bothered much by their teasing, and of course they hadn’t known the reason for it, either.  Jinhwan’s protective of Chanwoo for many reasons, but perhaps especially this; they both like to pretend that it’s all about Chanwoo, and that Jinhwan’s playing along and being a good hyung, but it isn’t true.

 

He’s all the more protective of Chanwoo because frankly, he _loves_ being the one Chanwoo wants most.  He loves the feeling of Chanwoo trusting him, the feeling of being _special_ , and there’s no clearer mark of that than his pretty, painted nails.

 

“All five, hm?  I’m impressed.” Jinhwan says, just a touch condescendingly, though he’s relieved his voice doesn’t crack with how strained he’s feeling.

 

Chanwoo wishes he could see Jinhwan’s nails now, but obviously that’s a little harder to do when he’s got half his foot stuffed in Chanwoo’s mouth.  Jinhwan shivers, licking his lips, and Chanwoo shares in the heat of his response, eyes fluttering closed.  

 

Below, Jinhwan moves his other foot until he’s got his heel dug into Chanwoo’s crotch, rolling the shape of his cock beneath the arch.  Chanwoo really _does_ moan then, and something snaps suddenly in Jinhwan’s head.

 

Chanwoo releases Jinhwan’s foot from his mouth, and he moves it to join the other to dig more firmly into Chanwoo’s crotch, his toes gripping the shape of him through his underwear.  “How bad do you want it, hm?” He says, suddenly sounding fierce, intense.  Chanwoo tips his head back helplessly, showing the line of his throat and the thin sheen of sweat beginning to settle there.

 

“Please, hyung.” Chanwoo says, almost _whines_ , and both of them are surprised at how breathless he sounds, and how quickly he’d caved to Jinhwan’s demands; he doesn’t usually give in, holds out with a sort of playful stubbornness until he’s driven to the point of desperation.

 

But Jinhwan only smiles, pleased at the response, and settles a new cigarette between his lips.  With his other hand, he leans forward and takes a handful of Chanwoo’s hair at the crown to hold him still.  It’s not painful, but controlling, and Chanwoo reacts to it just like Jinhwan hoped he would:  By sagging against his knees, his hands stroking worshipfully down Jinhwan’s calves to grip at his ankles.  

 

Jinhwan pushes the ball of his foot against Chanwoo’s dick.  “Show me, then.  Take these off.  Lie down.”

 

He lights his own cigarette while Chanwoo scrambles out of his underwear, setting that to the side as well.  He looks embarrassed again, his eyes bright in the dimness, the light not quite strong enough to bring out the heat in his cheeks as Jinhwan appraises him from head to toe, noting with interest that he’s already so hard he’s leaking, his cock flushed hard and pink with all the teasing.  When he tries to bend his legs up to hide himself out of embarrassment, Jinhwan shoves a foot between his knees and pries him apart with merciless strength, until his foot is resting in the crook of Chanwoo’s hip again.  Chanwoo’s breathless, eager, grinning and bright-eyed on the floor.

 

“You really _do_ like this, don’t you, you adorable little freak?” Jinhwan says silkily through a long plume of smoke, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, absentmindedly smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle in his immaculate white stockings.  He reaches out and taps his cigarette over Chanwoo’s body; a flake of ash sloughs off the red-hot tip onto his belly, and Chanwoo flinches helplessly, though by the time it reaches him it’s no longer hot.  In reality, he can’t even feel it, but he _thinks_ he can, and that’s enough.

 

“You were all for this a second ago, so make up my mind.  Open wide.” Jinhwan says again, slapping Chanwoo’s thigh to make him jerk and spread his legs wider.

 

Chanwoo isn’t sure how he doesn’t come at once at the squeeze and rub of skin on damp nylon on his cock, or the sight of his cockhead showing between the balls of Jinhwan’s pretty feet, or the grip of his toes curling around the length of him.  “Come on, babe,” Jinhwan coaxes, “if you want it, then _take it_.”

 

Chanwoo grabs the tops of Jinhwan’s feet at once, his grip almost too tight, though Jinhwan doesn’t correct him.  The position is awkward, but Chanwoo raises his head to look down at his dick between Jinhwan’s feet and then lets his head fall back, groaning.  

 

He begins an unsteady rhythm, fucking between the arches of Jinhwan’s feet.  Jinhwan allows it, biting his lip, his cigarette smoldering forgotten in his right hand as he watches Chanwoo intensely.

 

The pressure feels so _good_ , Jinhwan’s heel dug into his balls, toes and arches clasped around his length and held in place by Chanwoo’s hands.  He finds himself closer than expected far sooner than he’d hoped; he’d been hoping desperately to prolong the enjoyment, unsure as to whether this would ever happen again, but he’s just too close to hold himself back.

 

“If you get my feet messy, you’ll lick it up.” Jinhwan murmurs, but Chanwoo barely hears.  He’s not even aware that his throat is tight or that he’s whining in a repetitive keen, shaking with excitement and jerking as his body tenses like a coil of wire, orgasm readying itself to spring on him.  He bites his lip to keep from losing it altogether, and only at the last second does he realize that Jinhwan hasn’t given him permission to come.

 

Well, fuck it.

 

Chanwoo’s too far gone to care at this point, his whole body lit up and ready to go:  He arches up off the floor sharply, his back bowed as he bucks and groans.  Cum flecks his belly and chest as he jerks and trembles through it, encouraged by Jinhwan’s low voice and Jinhwan digging his feet in harder; the sudden pain sets off the pleasure so sharply that Chanwoo _yells_ , coming copiously all over his own stomach and Jinhwan’s feet, trembling wildly as if jolted by a battery.

 

Collapsing back against the carpet, blissed-out and sweating and limp, Chanwoo struggles to catch his breath, his belly heaving.  His cock is still between Jinhwan’s feet, softening now, and Jinhwan smiles down at him, cigarette between his lips.  His voice is silky again, softly patronizing, thick with smoke in his throat.

 

“Well?”

 

Chanwoo’s still too breathless, too thrown to know exactly what Jinhwan means.  “T-Thank you, hyung.” He stammers, rolling his head to one side, hoping that will suffice.

 

“Do you remember what I said?” Jinhwan counters.

 

Chanwoo casts around, coming up empty-handed, and shakes his head lazily again.  Jinhwan sits back in the chair, dragging his stocking foot across Chanwoo’s messy stomach.  Cum gathers on the nylon, and Jinhwan crosses his legs at the knees this time, one elegant foot flexed to point his toes directly at Chanwoo’s face.  Chanwoo sits up effortfully on his elbows, huffing like an overheated animal, and then comprehension dawns on him.

 

“That’s nice, but I recall saying something about how _if you get my feet messy, you’ll lick it up._  So how about you get to it, hmm?”

 

Chanwoo sits up more fully, grinning, and then he takes Jinhwan’s foot in both hands.  He isn’t done yet, and neither is Jinhwan…

 

He’s looking forward to this.


End file.
